The Second Quarter Quell
by xHeyImReed
Summary: This is Haymitch's game.


This is a really short beginning, but it's just getting the story started. The following chapters will hopefully be much longer.

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Today is the Reaping for the 50th Annual Hunger Games. A Quarter Quell. This year, four tributes from each District will be reaped. Two boys and two girls. Today, my name is entered nine times. The odds of not being chosen are still relatively in my favor. I should only have my name entered five times, but since my father died, I have opted to take the tessera. That's twice more my name has been entered into the reaping for the past two years. I run my hand through my hair hoping the odds truly are in my favor.

"Haymitch!" I hear my mother's voice calling for me. As she comes to find me, her voice grows louder. "Haymitch," She says when she reaches me, "You need to go get dressed now. The Reaping's just in an hour and a half!"

"Alright, Mother." I answer her, slightly annoyed. My mother has dark, curly hair and grey eyes, like myself. We are from the Seam. Although, my mother has the personality of someone from town, possibly a toned down version of a Capitol citizen. She's very loud. Quite eccentric. Even more so than anyone I've ever known. I love her, but she can be incredibly irritating.

I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly before standing up to find something to throw on. I walk to my closet, picking out the one good shirt I own. I slip it on and button it up the front.

We are not the poorest of the poor. Possibly well-off for living in the Seam. My mother has a job sorting medicines and herbs at the Apothecary Shop. They pay decently, so between Mother's job and the tessera I've signed up for, we are able to survive.

I look into the mirror, trying to make myself as presentable as I can. I've ever understood why we all need to look our best while being sent away to our inevitable deaths. Seems pointless, honestly. Pointless and idiotic.

Once I look nicer, I walk into the kitchen area of our house. My mother is fixing a stew for us to eat before the Reaping. I walk up behind my brother, who is only eleven, lucky for him. I place my hands on his shoulders and shake him a little, apparently harder than he'd like, for he brushes me off. "You ready to go?"

He shrugs, "I guess so." I nod and sit next to him at our small kitchen table. My mother soon brings us small bowls of stew, knowing our apatites would be very small on a day like this. We all eat as much as we have the stomachs for. Once we finish eating, we decide to head down to the town square.

The walk is filled with my mother going on about how she loves me and hopes the odds are in my favor. I try to look like I'm listening, but I really have no interest in what she's saying. When we reach the sqaure, I turn to her and look her in the eye. "I love you." I turn to my brother and tell him the same. I then walk to the roped off area where the other 16 year-old boys are standing.

I stand there with my arms crossed, wishing more than anything this could be over already. I examine the others around me. Some are almost in tears with fear. Other's have completely blank expressions, as if they've completely checked out. They probably have. I look back up at the stage and I see Ivy Leffington, District 12's escort take her seat in between the mayor and Matilda Barges, the only Victor District 12 has ever had. The Mayor stands and makes his way to the podium.

The Mayor begins to read off the Treaty of Treason. I tap my fingers on my arm, waiting for him to be done. When I hear him say Matilda's name, I give them my attention. Not long after, Ivy Leffington, grinning broader than I thought was possible, comes trotting up the podium. She is sporting blue hair and seems to have dyed her skin a lighter shade of the color. Capitol people are disgusting.

"Happy Hunger Games," She begins in her thick, annoying Capitol accent, "And may the odds be ever in your favor!" She winks and walks over to the reaping balls. "Ladies first!" She exclaims as she sticks her hand into the glass ball. She pulls out a slip of paper an reads off a name I do not recognize. The girl walks up to the stage, from the way it looks, she's barely able to stay standing. Poor girl. Ivy reaches back into the ball and pulls out another slip. "Maysilee Donner." She reads. This name, I do recognize. She is the daughter of the sweet shop owners. I have only spoken to her once in my life. I watch her as she walks up to the stage, looking much braver than the other girl.

"Good, good.." Ivy says under her breath. She then crosses to the boys ball, putting her huge grin back on her face. "Now for the boys!" She sticks her hand into the ball and pulls the paper out. She reads off another name I do not recognize, but once he gets up on the stage, I recognize his face. He's been in my class before, I believe.

Ivy reaches her hand into the ball, pulling the paper out slowly, to add an unneeded dramatic effect. I roll my eyes. When she calls out the name, my heart stops, just momentarily. The people around me start shooting me looks, and I think I hear my mother cry out from the adults' area. The name called out was my own. Haymitch Abernathy.


End file.
